Obstacles in Love
by Leslie Lady of Light
Summary: [Bend it Like Beckham] Jess returns to England and Joe for a brief visit, only to find that her parents have arranged a marriage for her...with an Indian boy. Will love prevail?
1. A Happy Homecoming

Author's Note: This is a small fic I started on the side after watching the GREAT movie, Bend it Like Beckham for the third time. Translations for Hindi words are at the end.

Disclaimer: This applies all the way through. I do not claim credit for any of the characters, ideas or events following.

A Happy Homecoming

"There they are! There they are!" Jess's best friend and fellow footballer Jules squealed, pointing at a large group standing together. Both girls hitched their sports bags up a little and began to sprint. 

Jess ran straight over to where her parents were standing and threw herself, bag and all, into her father's arms, barely glancing at where Jules's parents were standing, accompanied by a tall, brown-haired man. 

Next to them, Jules was hugging her mom then her dad, then she shrieked, "Joe!" and threw herself at him too. Jess looked up quickly, and catching Joe's eye on her, smiled at him before turning to her sister and the small child sleeping in her arms. 

"Ohhh, Pinky! So good to see you! And this is the chhoti! Look at masi, look at masi!"* she chanted, cooing over the small baby. 

"That's Dadi*," her old mate Tony interjected and Jess playfully swatted his shoulder. 

"Aw, shut it, Tony," she said good-naturedly. "How are you?" she added, as he engulfed her in a big hug. Turning back to Pinky she deftly took the child out of her sister's arms and nodding to her brother-in-law, Teetu, was hugging and kissing her nephew when she looked up to find Joe standing in front of her, smiling down at her and the child. 

Jess grinned up at him, but held the child close, a closed look in her eyes. Joe, who had been about to give her a hug, stopped and held out a hand instead, smiling a little uncertainly. Jess shook his hand, and smiled as Joe contrived to squeeze her hand fondly even through the trite gesture. Shaking her head slightly though with a smile on her face, she turned back to her family, and continued her conversation with her family. 

The whole group headed out of the airport, chattering to one another, as they made their way to the three cars in the parking lot. Jess loaded her sports bag into the trunk of her father's car and headed around to the back seat, smiling as her sister and Tony squeezed together against the child's car seat to make some space for her. 

"Ah, we've got a whole other car," Joe said, leaning out the window of his small car. "Hop in, Jess," he invited. Jess shrugged and smiling at her nephew again, made her way around the side of Joe's car. Settling in, she strapped on her belt, then glanced into the back seat and laughed. 

"A whole other car, is it?" she teased. The back seat was filled to the brim with football equipment. "Oh, that's not half of it. The rest is in the trunk," he told her, turning on the car and waiting for the others to leave. The moment the two cars had driven out of the lot however, he shut it off again. 

"Joe, what-?" she began, but was cut off when Joe leaned over and kissed her. A minute later, she pulled away, though didn't move back. Her eyes still closed, she took a ragged breath and murmured, "Joe…" She opened her eyes slowly and looked up at him. 

"Don't tell me you met someone else," he whispered, staring down at her. 

Jess moved away with a sigh. "No, but-" 

"Then what?" he demanded, unable to repress the eager note from his voice. 

"My-my parents," she said reluctantly. "They won't-"

"I've been working on them," he broke in. 

"You have?" 

"Yeah, well, your dad likes me now. We play cricket together. And I'm a huge fan of your mum's cooking. I mean, times they even forget I'm not Indian." 

"Yeah, but they only like you for a friend." 

"I'm not asking you to marry me," Joe pointed out with a frown. 

Jess shook her head. "Yeah, what _you're_ asking is worse," she muttered, turning her head away. 

"What's that mean?" he demanded angrily. 

"You'd better get started," she said irrelevantly. 

"No, I won't until you tell me what that means!" 

"It means…my parents would approve less of my having an English boyfriend than they would my marrying an English man." 

Joe stared at her, his mouth slightly open, then he set his jaw and turned on the car. He slammed on the accelerator and sped out of the lot and onto the freeway. "Joe, you're not even wearing your safety belt!" she scolded. 

He snorted but took one hand off the steering wheel to put it on. Overtaking cars smoothly, he turned to look at her. Jess glanced up but catching his eye looked away. He continued to stare at her until she cried, "Look at the road!" and he frowned but returned his eyes to the road, only sneaking glances at her every once in a while. 

After several minutes of silence, he asked abruptly, "So how's America?" 

Jess looked up at him, startled out of her reverie. "Oh, all right, you know? Very…large, I guess. I mean, Santa Clara's just this little rural area and it's at least as large as Leicester." (A/N: Or wherever it is they live.)

Joe nodded, and tried to look interested. Jess noticed and added, with a slight smile, "But there's absolutely _nothing_ wrong with American boys. Except maybe their accents," she said mock-thoughtfully. 

Again Joe nodded; this time it was a more terse, little one and his grip tightened on the wheel. He sat up a little straighter and stared straight ahead, his back stiff and did not look back at her for a few seconds. 

Then she laughed. "I was just pulling your leg, you know," she told him, laughing as he turned to her incredulously. At her amused expression, he scowled then loosening his grip on the steering wheel, said in what he fancied was a loose casual voice, "So, American boys are no good, right?" 

Jess laughed. "I didn't say that," she teased. 

"Oh," he replied, a little stiffly. 

"Only not as sweet as English boys. Or Irish, for that matter," she added. 

Joe turned completely around to stare at her for a minute, an unbelieving expression suffusing his face, then he grinned. "Oh," he said again, but with a very different tone. Jess smiled as he reached over and picked up one of her hands. 

"You liar," he said to the car in general, still looking straight at the road, though he was smiling. He looked at her hand as he drove, his eyes taking in the tanned skin and the neatly kept nails. "I'm going to predict from this lovely hand that they train you hard but don't make you dig up tees yourself," he said with a grin. 

"So how's the coach?" 

"Oh, really good. He's brilliant, you know. Played for the US Olympic team, actually. Can you imagine how good he is?" she asked enthusiastically. 

"How-how old is he?" Joe asked, in a would-be nonchalant voice. 

Jess caught the suspicious note in his voice, however, and laughed. "Yes. Only 23. And very handsome." She paused to enjoy the look on Joe's face then added, "Jules is very lucky." 

Joe visibly relaxed. "JULES?" he asked relieved. "Oh…uh, that's great." 

Jess smiled at him. "Was a time when you used to like her," she reminded him. 

"I-what? No, never," he assured her a little anxiously, until he glanced at her long enough to see that she was kidding. 

"Who am I to get jealous?" she demanded. "I'm the one pushing you away." 

Joe took the exit off the parkway, smiling a little. "Who said it's working?" he asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. Jess shrugged a little, then yawned. "I'm sorry, making you talk when you must still be in America time and all. You can take a little nap if you want." 

Jess nodded and snuggled a little lower in her seat, leaning her head comfortably against Joe's arm and falling asleep almost immediately. Joe smiled. She was fast asleep, her loose hair flowing down her back and waving slightly in the cool air blowing through the open windows, her light head pillowed against his arm. 

She moved a little, snuggling in deeper against his arm, and he wished the controls weren't between them. She licked her lips lightly and he caught his breath, watching her as she peacefully slept. "Love ya Jess," he whispered. 

They reached a traffic light and he turned around to look at her. He was still lovingly remembering every detail of her face, what did he mean, remember?, he asked himself, he had not even memorised them, okay then, memorising every detail of her face when she stirred, shattering his pleasant daydream in which her sleeping face figured. 

She turned away, and moved her head a little out of the crook of his arm and he sighed. "JESS," he complained under his breath. She moved her head a little, trying to block the bright ray of sun that was falling across it. Joe glanced over and reached into the back seat with one long arm for his football jacket with the name of his team embroidered on the front right and his name printed on the back. He leaned over and covered the window with it, then lightly pushed her head to fall in its shade. 

Joe drove as slow as he could the last few kilometers. When he drove into the driveway, he practically crawled. Finally, he stopped and turned off the car before turning to Jess, still asleep. Luckily, everybody else had gone in, and Jules had gone home. 

He reached across then thinking better of it, unbuckled his belt, opened the door and jumped out, closing it lightly behind him. He walked around to her side of the car and opened the door, gently, catching her head as it dropped a little. Still holding her head in his hands, he leaned over and pushed her hair out of her eyes. 

She blinked a little and stirred and was bewildered by the sudden feel of a mouth on hers. Hurriedly blinking the sleep away, she forced herself to open her eyes and told herself to stop but once completely 

awake even, she could not bring herself to. She had not kissed him for nearly four months, after all. 

Forgetting, or perhaps not yet realizing that she was in her driveway, she leaned back a little, intending to pull away, not expecting him to press closer and move into the car to perch on the seat beside her, even closer. 

Finally, she broke off, looked up at him, and whispered, "Joe." Joe looked at her lovingly, longingly and moved so close his mouth was centimeters from hers. 

"What?" he whispered back. 

"I love you." 

Joe stared at her incredulously for a few seconds then leaned forward and kissed her again. 

~~~~~~~~

* Chhoti – Little one

* Masi – Aunt

* Dadi – Grandmother 

THANK YOU Kash, for the corrections! Whew! Not what I meant to say at all. It's strange though, because in a South Indian language, 'kutti' means little one but in Hindi…wow! Sorry! 

Alright mates, tell me if you want more.


	2. Hopeless

Chapter 2: Hopeless

Joe barely got to see Jess alone all through that all too short Christmas holiday; it was only when she stepped, tentatively, on to the old Harrier's pitch, her bag slung over her shoulder, that Joe remembered she would need to practice for her team in Santa Clara. 

Joe's face broke into a grin and he jogged over to her, unable to wipe the ecstatic look from his face. Reaching her, he took her hands in his and bent down to kiss her; Jess turned her face away and ducked out of his grasp, looking very solemn.

Before Joe could question what was bothering her, Jules ran up behind them, dropped her bag and flung her arms around Joe; startled, he hugged her back, still staring into Jess's sad brown eyes.

"Jess! Fancy seeing YOU here!" Jules laughed, briefly hugging her friend before turning out to where the team was practicing; Joe whistled and they stopped, saw Jules and Jess, and ran over.

For a few minutes, in the babble of greetings, Joe allowed himself to stare at Jess, greedily drinking in her softly curling black hair, her large, long-lashed, warm, brown eyes, her short and slim figure. Something was definitely wrong, he decided. He had never seen Jess look this wan.

Recalling himself, Joe clapped his hands. "Alright, girls. Back to practice!" he called, gesturing for Jules and Jess to join.

*          *            *

An hour and a half later, Joe sat in the bleachers, waiting for Jess to come out of the changing room. He nodded or smiled as the others passed him on their way home.

Jules was second to last. She smiled at him, "Just like old times, eh?" 

Joe nodded. "Where's Jess?" he asked briefly. 

Jules's smile faded, whether from concern for her friend or jealousy that Joe like Jess and not her, Joe couldn't tell. He had never known how Jules had gotten over him and Jess, (if there _was_ anything _to_ get over, he thought bitterly) nor if she had even gotten over him… the coach in Santa Clara was all very well but still… he needed to find out about Jess, though.

"She's- not right… something's bugging her, I can't tell what. She acts all upset and sad but won't tell me what's wrong." Jules shook her head. "Maybe you can get it out of her," she added before heading off.

Joe sat still for half a second longer then vaulted over the railing and walked over to the changing room. He hesitated at the door and knocked. There was no response. Pressing his ear to the door, he thought he could hear the sound of running water. Taking a quick glance around, he slipped inside, and closed the door.

Joe stopped short.

Jess was standing in the shower, fully clothed. (A/N: This story IS PG-13 my dear readers!) Her uniform was completely soaked and her hair was hanging in wet curls down her back; she hadn't noticed him yet.

Joe took a deep breath and forced himself to not watch the cool drops of water sliding down her smooth skin. He cleared his throat and Jess spun around.

They stared at each other for a minute then Joe reached over and turned off the shower.

More silence.

"Look… Jess?"

By now he was close enough to touch her; giving in to his wishes, he leaned over and kissed her wet lips, sliding his arms around her waist.

The kiss seemed to give Jess strength because when she pulled away, she was collected enough to look up at him and let the truth tumble out, in a pitiful voice, "They've arranged a marriage for me."

Joe couldn't comprehend what she was saying for a second. Then, tightening his arms around her, he asked, forcing himself to be calm, "What?"

Jess tried to stop a few tears from falling out of her eyes but it was useless. "It's true, Joe," she whispered. "The engagement's this Sunday."

"They- they can't!" Joe shouted frantically, holding her even closer, determined to never let her go.

She stepped away.

 "They've picked one of the family's friend's son," she recited calmly, yet unable to look into his face. "And I-" she looked up into his face and seeing the heartbreak there, stopped. "Oh, Joe! What are we going to DO?"

*~*~

Slightly melodramatic, yeah. Sorry. And also sorry it's short. And also don't expect much if anything until May 8th. Go out and play some football.


	3. Interlude

A/N: Sooo sorry for the long wait! I should have updated May 8 but couldn't for the simple reason that there wasn't anything to update. Anyway, this is not a real chapter, more like a little insert. But as I don't have another place to put these little bits, not to mention I'm too lazy to find one, I'll put them here.

* * *

Chapter 2.5: Interlude

Joe would have liked to spend the rest of the week doing nothing but holding Jess close, alone with her in his slummy apartment.

As it was, he barely saw her for a minute. Jess didn't come to practices after that first day though Jules faithfully did.

Joe drove into town two days later and bought the tool set he badly needed to fix his leaking water pipe (never mind that it had been broken for half a year.) On the way home, he drove past Jess's house, slowing down as he neared the familiar white and brick building, fronted by a neat garden. He slowed til he was cruising at nearly 5 km/h then stopped altogether, hidden behind the hedges.

He sighed and stared at the once more brightly decorated house. The last time it had looked like this had been for Pinky's wedding. Trying not to remember that there were likely would be another wedding here soon, Joe craned his neck in an effort to peer into the yard, hoping Jess might be there, bouncing a football.

All he did see was several bright garments flapping cheerfully in the breeze; one of them, a bluish-red one, caught his eye and he stared harder at it, trying to remember where he had seen the pretty dress.

Ah, he remembered now. It was the same robe Jess had worn at her sister's engagement party, when Joe had been caught by Mr. Bhamra as he peered through the brightly lit windows. _That_ was an experience he did _not_ want to repeat.

_I hope you're happy, Mr. Bhamra_, Joe thought darkly. Jess's dad would be getting his wish: Jess would be marrying a respectable, _Indian_ boy, probably Sikh or Punjabi or whatever the hell it was she was. Joe could never understand the emphasis families like Jess's placed on religion or caste or race. Would anybody be any happier because she was marrying a man of her own race? Would _Jess_?

The words "Jess" and "marriage" in the same thought made him jump, falling abruptly out of his rather unpleasant reverie. What would he do, once Jess was married? As a Christian and an honourable man, he could not very well continue to covet her. That is, he very easily _could_ but Joe was determined he _wouldn't_.

Joe supposed he could always find some other cute, petite footballer, but would it ever be the same? Would he not always look for some characteristic, some quality, of Jess, in that still unseen girl? Would his heart not always quicken at the sound of a merry laugh, a voice as smooth and sexy as honey, would his eyes not always brighten at the sight of curling black tresses, long-lashed dark chocolate eyes? At the sight of a rosy mouth, so kissable, so –

Joe stopped himself right there. If he was going to start fantasizing about Jess's body, he might as well leave. No way he would risk getting caught by Mr. Bhamra doing, uh, suspicious things.

He stared at the house again, wishing Jess would run out the door as she used to, whistling, with a football moving under her feet.

Joe renewed his gaze at the house, excited by his own fantasy. He stared in silence for a minute then sighed heavily and slowly turned to drive off. He had just turned completely back to the road when a voice called from behind, making him break sharply and snap his neck as he whirled around.

He grinned at the sight of Jess, wearing a bright blue dress (bright colors really suited her, Joe thought admiringly) running after his car. Joe thought Jess a very beautiful woman, and he thought her dress extremely pretty, but he could not deny that the most attractive thing was that she was running after _him_. He wished one of the neighbors would glance out the window.

Joe leaned over and pushed the door open as she neared, still grinning. Jess smiled happily and jumped in, her long skirt catching in the door. Joe leaned forward to loose it but was effectively stopped when Jess leaned towards him and began snogging him. And with Jess, it was always…mind-blowing.

Several minutes, or was it hours? later, Joe shakily drove off, smiling through his rearview mirror at Jess, who was standing at her walk, waving him around the corner.

If there was anything more alluring than a beautiful girl running after you, it was a beautiful girl waving her hand off as you rounded the corner.

* * *

Just a look from Joe's side. I'll try and get one from Jess's side soon.


	4. Complications

Chapter 3: Complications

On Sunday morning, the sun shone and the lone bird that kept coming back to nest on top of Joe's roof sang its heart out. Joe, who had always hated the bird, groaned as he hurriedly jumped out of bed and ran into the shower, cursing the bird for singing, the sun for shining, the clock for being ten minutes too fast, the day for ever arriving. He would have infinitely preferred it if, on this, the day on which their lives would so dramatically change, it had poured torrents, or at least rained enough to keep Jess's Indian bloke away. Or if God had taken pity on him and prevented the day from happening.

As it was, the day _had_ arrived, and he was late. Pulling on a nice-looking pair of trousers and a freshly pressed shirt, Joe carefully combed his hair (never mind that Jess loved the wet, just-played-football look, today he had to look good for the others), added some cologne and ran out the door.

Joe turned onto Jess's road a good one hour later than he and Jess had agreed upon. More than halfway there, he had realized that he had thrown on his football boots instead of the nice new ones he and Jules had bought two days ago, specially for today. He and Jess had agreed that, since Mr. Bhamra had very kindly invited some of his close family friends to join the party, he, Joe, was welcome too. Still, the fact that Jess wanted, needed, him there only slightly calmed his nervousness at showing up unexpected on Mr. Bhamra's doorstep.

Joe took a last glance at his reflection in his mirrors. He was just trying to slick a bit of hair at the back down again when he suddenly slammed the brakes.

The rest of the street was blocked up with cars. Driveways spilled over with them, the road was flooded. It looked like Mr. Bhamra had invited every person he knew.

"Bloody hell…"

* * *

Jess had been up since six; she had long been prettily and stylishly dressed (Jules had told her that Joe's first comment alone to her after he had met Jess had been that she was stylish); and now she was left to sit alone in the room that had once held all her pictures of Beckham. Though Jess's parents had allowed her to go to America, it was clear that they only considered it as temporary as going to university might have been. She, Jesminder Bhamra, was destined to marry a good Indian boy and cook aloo gobi for the rest of her life.

Jess stared up at the blank spot on her wall that had held her favorite picture of Beckham. Beckham hadn't had religiously blind parents, hadn't had to give up all of his dreams and get 'settled down.' Life really wasn't fair if you were a girl, especially an Indian one.

Life also wasn't fair if you were waiting since seven for a messy-haired, husky-voiced Irish footballer who refused to get his lazy bum out of bed even for such an important occasion as this.

She would be getting _engaged_ today, for goodness sake! _Only _forever separated from him.

Jess didn't think she could handle that.

It was something of a secret between those who knew the pair, that Jess loved Joe. She was so reserved and modest in public (Indian values, she protested) that few who saw the two together realized that they _were _together. Jess even had her doubts about Jules sometimes.

But Jules, of course, was slightly biased and slightly jealous that Joe had chosen another to love and (now) languish over.

Still, most people only thought that Joe admired Jess, liked her style, her game, maybe her smile. Because Joe didn't like the pitying looks he got when he was overly affectionate with Jess.

So their relationship, hindered by her modest upbringing, was confined to hastily snatched kisses and even shorter conversations. It was a fact that Joe often sighed over but could do nothing about.

Throughout her stay in America, Jess had sent Joe emails and cards, letters and pictures. But she never once called him. While Joe talked by phone to Jules at least twice a month, Jess had never called, had seemingly never found the time or the energy or the inclination to talk to him. Joe had always been given excuses, most of which were reasonable, so he hadn't pressed her too much; he did have some courtesy for her feelings, which might be undergoing some distress while she adjusted to the revelation that she actually loved him. She might have finally realized that, when she came back, they ought to be together, belonged in each other's arms.

Ha!

Joe often thought, since her return, that the exact opposite had happened in America. Jess had realized that she _didn't_ love Joe, _couldn't_ be with him, and was just trying to find a nice way to say it.

It was thoughts like these, and feelings even more sure than such thoughts, that made Joe all the more anxious to please Jess on days like today, important ones.

But from where he stood, outside her house, still stuck in his car, it didn't look like _today_ was his day to sweep Jess off her feet and into his arms, _either_.

* * *

A voice screamed something up the stairs, interrupting her daydream; Jess stood up and sighing, walked unseeingly down the stairs, more than a little miffed at Joe for still not showing up. She paused on the landing to look in the mirror and adjust her heavy necklace. Jess tried a smile but it came out more like she was getting a particularly painful tooth extracted. She gave up and floated wearily down the stairs.

The doorbell rang just as she passed the front hall, weaving through partying family members, all wanting to congratulate her on having 'caught' a handsome, rich groom. How did they _know_ he was handsome and rich, if _they_ hadn't seen him _either_?

Mustering a shadow of a smile for whichever chattering, well-wishing family was at the door, Jess opened it, and froze.

Standing on her doorstep and looking very charming, very stylish, very handsome, was a man. An _Indian_ man.

Frankly staring at him, Jess stepped back to let him in, still taking in his smart appearance, his lean brown body, comfortably clothed in an expensive suit. He smiled a little uncertainly at her and Jess felt her knees go weak. Since when had Indian boys changed from the-the- oh, well who _cared_ what they used to be like, since when had they changed into – this!?

Jess smiled slightly back at him and felt a strange thrill run through her stomach as a wide grin suffused his face. Regaining some awareness of her surroundings, Jess moved to close the door, still eyeing the man who had showed up on her doorstep and driven the thought of any other man out of her head.

"Oh, don't close it," the man said quickly, a low, sexy drawl that made Jess's spine tingle. He put out a hand and lightly stopped the heavy door that Jess had loosed when she heard his voice.

"My brother's coming," he continued, perhaps creeped out by the hostess who was staring at him like a cat eyes a mouse. "You must be Jesminder."

He looked her over for a slight second, with far more coolness yet just enough intensity to please her.

"My brother's one lucky wanker if you're her," he said, apparently finishing his analysis. He turned to her parents, who had arrived in the hall and were affectionately berating Jess for not telling them that the boy's family had arrived.

Jess barely heard them; the man's voice still echoed delightfully in her head… "My brother's one lucky wanker if you're her…"

Wait…_brother_?...

* * *

Long time, nothing. I know. Sorry. Life's full and it appears to be intent on staying that way. Your comments, feedback, criticisms, praise, is very welcome.


	5. Forgotten

Chapter 4: Forgotten

Jess had barely closed the door on the groom and his family when a knock sounded. Jess, preoccupied by the groom's very handsome brother and by the not-as-handsome groom, ignored it.

Joe could see the outline of a slim, colorfully dressed girl through the window, the unique curl of her hair proving that it was Jess on the other side of the wooden door. He rang again, knocked, a little anxiously; maybe they didn't hear the bell in all the commotion. Joe was just rehearsing the speech he and Jess had planned should any but her open the door when the door swung open.

It wasn't Jess, but a tall, good-looking bloke, dressed rather smartly, though overdressed in Joe's opinion. He had the look of a businessman and his condescending "Yes?" on seeing Joe made Joe's temper flare. He acted like it was his house, Joe thought, though he outwardly summoned a smile and said smoothly, "I'm here for Jesminder's engagement party."

The man raised an eyebrow at Joe's shirt (which was neither Indian, nor very expensive) but let him in. "I'm Rakesh," he added carelessly, pronouncing the name very stylishly and with a special emphasis on the "kesh". Joe wondered if "kesh" meant something expensive.

"Jess's around here somewhere. We just got here so she's probably speaking with my brother," Rakesh said. "You're welcome to have a drink if you want."

Joe nodded and turned away, but realized there was nobody else he could talk to. So he turned back to Rakesh.

"Where are you all from?"

"London," the man replied, his voice definitely snooty. Joe felt like throttling him, but instead nodded coolly. "Ever been there?" Rakesh asked.

"Only once or twice," Joe admitted, reminding himself that this man had never played football with Jess, seen her, dripping wet with sweat, triumphant after a goal…

"Personally, I couldn't see how one could ever live in a small town like this. It's practically worse than the villages of India. I can't conceive of _anything _to do here."

Joe nodded once, as though conceding a point, then added, "Ah, we've got a couple of great football teams, though."

The man frowned, and Joe was about to ask him if he knew what football was, when he asked, "How is it that you know Jess again? Went to Uni with her?"

Joe smirked and announced, "I'm her football coach."

Rakesh raised his eyebrows, but before he could say anything, Jess's father arrived to get him. Mr. Bhamra paused at the sight of Joe, nicely dressed, with a wrapped gift in his hands.

"Good morning, Mr. Bhamra," Joe said quickly. "I-I brought you a gift for the-the engagement ceremony…" he swallowed, and noting the frown on Mr. Bhamra's face, hastily retracted the gift.

Mr. Bhamra, who had only frowned because the engagement was not yet finalized and it was bad luck to offer congratulations before, quickly smiled and shook his hand, taking the gift.

"Of course, of course, come in," he said, motioning him to walk into the family room, where most of the men were seated. He stopped at the sight of Rakesh and smiled at the man.

"Rakesh, have you met, this is Joe, my daughter Jesminder's old football coach. He is a good friend," Mr. Bhamra said, patting Joe's back with a smile. Rakesh nodded curtly and went back inside.

"Come in, Joe," Mr. Bhamra invited. "Shall I get you a drink?"

"Uh, no-no- uh…a drink would be very nice."

* * *

Jess, who was trapped in the kitchen with a roomful of chattering aunts and their smirking daughters, eyed her potential groom one more time. He was being bombarded with sweets and snacks, and, like a ninny, Jess thought, was accepting them all. He'd be literally forced to eat them all now, she thought vengefully. Serves him right.

Jess's suitor, who was called Rajesh, or Ricky (Jess couldn't figure out where the nickname came from) was a medium-sized man with a head of black hair and a pair of golden glasses. Beyond that, Jess could not find any distinguishing feature in his solemn, slightly pudgy face. Certainly, handsome was _not _the word for him.

But his brother, on the other hand…ah! _There _was a specimen of ideal Indian boy. _There _was the kind of man she wanted to marry: handsome, well-spoken, a husky voice, a lilting accent. Jess reminded herself to ask him if he ever played football.

He was currently out in the family room, full of uncles and their adolescent, obnoxious sons, most of whose diapers Jess had changed at some point or other. Jess could absolutely not go out there, nor could she conceivably invite him inside the kitchen, where the all-important matter of 'finalizing the engagement' was to occur. And as for that, _Ricky _was more bent on finalizing the sweets than her.

Jess sighed inwardly, wondering where Joe was. Was it too much to ask that he show up when she wanted him? She didn't ask too much of him. To be precise, she didn't ask anything of him at all.

The fact was, during her time in America, Jess had come to the uncomfortable conclusion that she could live very nicely without Joe. She needed his funny emails and cards and she found that a week in which he did not order flowers to be sent to her room, with a quirky, cute card, was not worth living through, but other than that, she was fine. Completely happy to be independent, unattached, just Jess.

So maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Joe had not showed up today.

Jess looked up as the door swung in, admitting her father and a tall, brown-haired man, followed by Rakesh. She stood up hurriedly, glancing warily at her mother.

Jess felt her breath constrict as all three men looked at her; she couldn't stand the accusing look on her father's face, nor the intensity of Joe's gaze; she hated to think that Rakesh was seeing all of this. Meanwhile, her groom remained seating, stuffing his face.

"Hello, Jess," Joe said, breaking the silence and smiling at her. He held out a bouquet of flowers, innocent lilies. Not a dozen red roses or exotic orchids, like he usually sent.

Jess relaxed a little, seeing his brotherly tone, and accepted his flowers with a small smile. His presence here was enough to dispel her doubts, her fears. One glance at her father revealed that he was thinking the same thing, and was perturbed by it.

Perhaps that was why he cleared his throat and announced that there was tea in the yard; within seconds, the room was clear of everybody but Ricky, Jess, Joe and Rakesh. Rakesh, who had his own suspicions about the reason for Joe's appearance, glanced from Joe to Jess and back again, before he smoothly escorted Joe out, separating the anxious pair. Ricky finally looked up at Jess, his eyes going wide at the sight of her. Joe, catching the glance, gave an audible growl before finally allowing himself to be towed outside by Rakesh.

Jess glanced back once more at the door through which Joe had disappeared then looked back at Ricky, shivering at the sight of him. He was absolutely unappealing not to mention more interested in food than women. Jess gave him a shrewd glance then broke the abrupt silence.

"So, Ricky, do you like football?"


	6. Betrayal

A/N: My new motto is "Short and sweet," so here I am, upholding it :). Hmm, there may be a BIT of drama in this chapter…hehehe.

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Chapter 6: Betrayal 

Jess kicked the foot of her bed angrily before flopping onto it, not caring about the wrinkles she would put in her fancy dress. Joe had been so stupid! Acting all jealous and possessive, his presence had actually made things worse. And Rakesh hadn't stopped smirking the entire time, a bloody four hours. And _Ricky_…there was simply nothing to be said about him. Jess could never ever marry him and that was that. She had just told her father so…very politely and very firmly. Before her father had come into the house after sending off the last of the persistent relatives, she had told her mother the same…rather shrilly and impolitely. Mrs. Bhamra just didn't listen to reason.

Thinking that a bit of football would clear up her mind, Jess hastily unzipped her flowing _salwar_ and grimaced as the smooth folds literally fell to the floor, creating a pool of purplish-pink around her feet. Why anyone would wear clothes that _had _to be pinned in order to stay on her body was beyond her. Slipping into a clean pair of pants, a reasonably clean t-shirt and her favorite trainers, Jess pulled her hair out of its intricate braid and into a low bun. She glanced at herself in the mirror and groaned before heading into the bathroom to wash out all the makeup and take off the dangly earrings.

Cautiously, Jess crept out the back door, through the garden and into her neighbor's lot before taking off for the nearest playing field. After she had kicked the ball around for 20 minutes, she was chased off by a few obnoxious teenage boys, three of whom, ironically, were Indian. "Go cook your effing aloo gobi!" the rudest yelled at her retreating back and Jess bristled. It really wasn't a fair world where even the lowest of the low could tell you what to do, and where all an Indian girl could do was cook aloo gobi. At that moment, Jess seriously considered the possibility of running away from it all, eloping and escaping her family's horrid restrictions and regulations…but who would she elope with? Not Jealous Joe.

Scowling, she took off at a brisk jog to the team's usual practice spot. Reaching it after about 10 minutes, she leaned against the rail for a few seconds, regaining her breath before she started to climb it.

Jess made her way across the empty field, wondering where all the players were. Then she recalled it was Saturday evening, and that every Saturday night, the local male footballers put together an informal rough-up game of football. No shirts, no rules was the general philosophy at these late night games, Jess knew. She also knew that Joe often played in these little scrimmages and an overwhelming desire to see him without his shirt on (the thought brought a smirk to her face) induced her to hurry on to the back field, where several people were already gathering.

By the time Jess had reached the farthest field, darkness had fallen and the lights had come on. A small crowd of around 30 people was huddled around the one field light and Jess briefly wondered why they chose to hold these games in the darkest, most secluded corner of the park. She was just heading for the group when a loud, drunken laugh stopped her in her tracks.

Keeping to the cover of the trees, Jess crept forward, her eyes adjusting to the shadowy grounds. Confusion swept over her as she glanced around, realizing that most everyone there was male, and drunk. _This_ was what they did on Saturday nights? _These_ were the games that made her little town so famous? A good Saturday night battle between the rival teams of two towns eclipsed even the international news on the front page of the _Leicester Daily_. And in reality, people came from all over to watch a bunch of drunks play football? Who cared if some of the best talent played on this dirty little field? They were still completely intoxicated, weren't they?

Feeling slightly disgusted with her former playmates at the moment, Jess started to turn back, hoping to pass into the grove of pine trees unspotted. Unfortunately, a wolf-whistle behind her made her freeze, as a voice split the air, unmistakably calling her.

She started breathing again when she realized whoever was calling her seemingly hadn't realized who she was. She listened without turning around and showing her face to the growing crowd, many of whom were now listening to the loud, rude voice disrupting the peaceful night.

The voice was rough, with a trace of an Irish accent. The words, which she did not comprehend at first, were slurred, and almost appallingly crude. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the insane and bitter insults of a man dead drunk and obviously in some sort of pain. Jess swallowed, trying to ignore the random and hurtful words that flew through the air, reminding herself that the man was drunk, and had no idea who he was talking to. If it came to it, she was lithe and fast; she could run away.

There was the briefest pause and Jess, wondering why she had stayed to listen to all that rather than leave the place, which she realized was fast becoming rowdy, started to take a step when the same voice cut the air.

"Don't you dare leave, Jess Bhamra! You fucking _ruined _my life and you _know_ it!" A trail of obscenities followed but Jess could only stand, frozen, as heavy footsteps ran up behind her. Tears filled her eyes as she recognized the voice, ironically by the "fucking" that she had never ever heard it utter before.

It belonged to Joe.

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Haha, a cliffie. It COULD have been worse believe me. I'll put up another chapter once the little blue number at the top hits 50 :).  



	7. Surrender

Yes it's been 50 for awhile. Sorry! Remind me to never do something like that again ;).

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"Don't you dare leave, Jess Bhamra! You fucking _ruined _my life and you _know_ it!" A trail of obscenities followed but Jess could only stand, frozen, as heavy footsteps ran up behind her. Tears filled her eyes as she recognized the voice, ironically by the "fucking" that she had never ever heard it utter before. 

It belonged to Joe.

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Chapter 7: Surrender

Jess instinctively turned towards him, and her eyes widened as she took him in, shirtless, hair damp and spiky with sweat, an angry glint in his usually soft eyes. He approached her with steps that were less than steady and Jess fought off an unreasonable panic: after all, it was only Joe.

He remained silent until he was within a foot of her, then opened his mouth again; Jess flinched, whether from dread of what he would say or his whiskey-heavy breath, she didn't know. Joe scowled, seeing her shudder, and realized for the first time just how small she was in comparison to him. Why, it'd be more than easy to just take that distractingly lithe body into his arms, shake some sense into her, tangle his hands into those wayward strands of night-black hair, crush her innocent lips under his…Joe's thoughts carried on from there and this time, he let them. This time, he'd do what he really wanted to do, act with her as he'd dreamed of, ever since he'd practically kissed her in Germany. Joe had been nothing but a gentleman all this time, and look where it had gotten him. No, this night, he would be just Joe. He would teach her what happened to little girls who played with fire.

Jess watched the play of emotions across his face, her apprehension heightening with each passing moment in which he did nothing but stare at her. Finally unable to take the long silence, she ventured out a trembly, "Joe…?"

Her name on his lips broke him out of his involved chain of thought and he again allowed the scowl to take possession of his face, and advanced a further two steps so he was almost touching her. His eyes flicked up and down her casually clad frame and he didn't bother to disguise the passion openly dancing in his dark eyes. Jess caught his heated gaze on her lips and shivered slightly, the fear gone. She searched his face and leaned towards him slightly, a frown crossing her forehead at the sudden disappearance of his anger. In truth, that vicious anger had frightened her, and she had all but given up on him when he approached her. His ensuing completely puzzling actions threw her off guard.

Deciding that she couldn't stand here and wait while Joe drank her in with his eyes, Jess moved even closer and put her hand to his cheek. Joe blinked and as if her touch had pulled him out of a reverie, started back, away from her hand. His eyebrows once again drew together with pain and anger, but Jess was too impatient to care this time. She stepped closer than before, the tips of her shoes trampling his, draped her arm around his neck and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth, glancing into his eyes the whole while. Joe felt his arm automatically come up to hold her tightly but his body wouldn't respond to his brain's urgent instructions to regain control now. Joe felt his heart race, felt Jess's heart, pressing against his, quicken in response to the slight tightening of his arms around her.

Joe didn't know how long he stood there, submitting to Jess's gentle kisses. All he knew was that his dark thoughts had been driven entirely out of his head, that he was more than content to play the part of Jess's little gentlemanly love, that he couldn't seem to make himself act as fierce and passionate as he had wanted. He felt anger as though from a distance, realized that Jess was only playing with him, kissing him lightly, teasing him, but that he was falling for it like a poor sod. Here he had been, marvelously drunk and ready to, for ONCE, be as strong as he knew he could be, and she had come and with her feathery kisses, driven every thought of his head, rendered him powerless with her virginal caresses.

Joe felt a haze starting to spread through his brain even while his other arm wrapped around Jess and he lifted her chin up, giving himself to those soft, sweet lips. _What the hell, he thought. If he couldn't have _that_ at least he could take _this.

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The WORST chapter I've ever written, if I say so myself ;). Sigh. Completely plotless and pointless. But there'll be another up this weekend. 


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